Rat Race - By Dick Francis Page 0,52

‘Hold up the letters for “follow”. Slowly. One by one.’

‘Right.’ She held them flat against the window beside her. We could see Colin’s head leaning back behind Nancy’s. When Annie finished the word we saw him wave his hand, and after that Nancy waved her map against her window, which showed up better.

‘Wytton,’ I reported. ‘It is the right aircraft. They are following us to the Wash. Can you give me a steer to King’s Lynn?’

‘Delighted,’ he said. ‘Steer zero four zero, and call Marham on frequency one one nine zero.’

‘Thanks a lot’ I said with feeling.

‘You’re very welcome.’

Good guys, I thought. Very good guys, sitting in their darkened rooms wearing headsets and staring at their little dark circular screens, watching the multitude of yellow dots which were aircraft swimming slowly across like tadpoles. They’d done a terrific job, finding the Rosses. Terrific.

‘Can you make a figure 4?’ I asked Annie Villars.

‘Certainly.’ The scissors began to snip.

‘When you have, would you hold up the O, then the 4, then the O again?’

‘With pleasure.’

She held up the figures. Nancy waved the map. We set off north-eastwards to the sea, Nancy staying behind us to the right, with me flying looking over my shoulder to keep a steady distance between us. I judged it would take thirteen minutes at her speed to reach the sea, five to ten to let down, and twenty or so more to return underneath the cloud base to Cambridge. Her fuel by the time she got there would be low, but there was less risk of her running dry than of hitting a hill or trees or a building by going down over the land. Letting down over the sea was in these circumstances the best procedure whenever possible.

‘We’re going to need some more letters,’ I told Annie.

‘Which?’

‘Um… R, I, V, and N, D, C, and a T, and a nine.’

‘Right.’

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Annie Villars snipping and Kenny Bayst, sitting behind her, sorting out the letters she had already made so that she could easily pick them out when they were needed. There was, I thought to myself, with a small internal smile, a truce in operation in that area.

Marham radar reported, ‘You have four miles to run to the coast.’

‘Hope the tide’s in,’ I said facetiously.

‘Affirmative,’ he said with deadpan humour. ‘High water eighteen forty hours B.S.T.’

‘And… er… the cloud base?’

‘Stand by.’ Down in his dark room he couldn’t see the sky. He had to ask the tower dwellers above.

‘Cloud base between six and seven hundred feet above sea level over the entire area from the Wash to Cambridge. Visibility two kilometres in drizzle.’

‘Nice’ I said with irony.

‘Very.’

‘Could I have the regional pressure setting?’

‘Nine nine eight millibars.’

‘Nine nine eight,’ I repeated, and took my hand off the throttle enough to set that figure on the altimeter subscale. To Annie Villars I said, ‘Can you make an 8, as well?’

‘I expect so.’

‘Crossing the coast,’ Marham said.

‘Right… Miss Villars will you hold up SEA?’

She nodded and did so. Nancy waved the map.

‘Now hold up SET, then 998, then MBS.’

‘S… E… T,’ she repeated, holding them against the window. ‘Nine, nine, eight.’ She paused ‘There’s no M cut out.’

‘W upside down,’ Kenny Bayst said, and gave it to her.

Oh yes. M… B… S. What does mbs mean?’

‘Millibars’ I said.

Nancy waved the map, but I said to Annie, ‘Hold up the nine nine eight again, it’s very important.’

She held them up. We could see Nancy’s head nodding as she waved back vigorously.

‘Why is it so important?’ Annie said.

‘Unless you set the altimeter to the right pressure on the subscale, it doesn’t tell you how high you are above the sea.’

‘Oh.’

‘Now would you hold up B A S E, then 6 0 0, then F T.’

‘Right… Base… six hundred… feet.’

There was a distinct pause before Nancy waved, and then it was a small, half hearted one. She must have been horrified to find that the clouds were so low: she must have been thanking her stars that she hadn’t tried to go down through them. Highly frightening piece of information, that six hundred feet.

‘Now,’ I said to Annie, ‘Hold up “Follow river and rail one nine zero to Cambridge”.’

‘Follow… river… and… rail… one… nine… zero… to… Cambridge… no g… never mind, c will do, then e.’ She spelt it out slowly. Nancy waved.

‘And just one more… 40, then N, then M.’

‘Forty nautical miles,’ she said triumphantly. She held them up and Nancy waved.

‘Now hold